Audacious & Salacious in Stilettos

I love him. He makes my heart feel as if it were ballooning about to burst, yet constricted by some surrounding force — the pressure a hair’s breadth before painful. It’s the most wonderful feeling in the world. I love the way he prances and how his face lights up in a dopey grin whenever he sees me. I love the way he jumps at the slightest hint of noise when I’ve been away, pining for my return. I love how he always has to touch me when we’re relaxing together — whether it’s a paw or his head on my leg, his body pressed snug against mine. I love how he tries to place himself directly between me and a guest, protecting his claim.

He is my dreams made flesh — by nature, my perfect companion.

I am his everything, and he is mine.

Our story is one of destiny.

I never experienced baby fever, but puppy fever ran stronger than the fiercest addiction. Growing up on a farm, I knew the level of attention and commitment it would take to raise a puppy, so I waited patiently until I was ready for the responsibility. It wasn’t until the aftermath of a very traumatic breakup from the man I intended to marry — I discovered my ex was a master manipulator living a double life, not only maintaining a steady girlfriend but also serial cheating for God only knows how long — that I decided it would be wiser to get a dog rather than another boyfriend. I needed something pure, something healing. I wanted something to love and a reason to come home.

Though I jetset to Puerto Rico for a month to recover, and later to Pensacola, FL, for an impulsive (yet epic) rebound, I was avidly searching breeds and dogs up for adoption.

A few weeks later, I found a litter of German Shepherd mix puppies that had been rescued from a kill shelter in Alabama and relocated to a rescue center in Newark, Delaware — about two and a half hours from where I lived. I was excited because I have always been drawn to German Shepherds. Growing up, we had a multitude of dogs, but my father had three or four consecutive Shepherds, all christened Apollo. I loved the idea of honoring that tradition, so with my friend Spicoli in tow, I made the trek north, promising myself I was “just looking.”

There were only two males in the litter that day, and though the larger one was handsome, it was the smaller pup with the outgoing personality, Egyptian kohl-lined eyes, and a striking facial mask that captured my heart. From that first moment, we were mutually obsessed with each other and I knew I had to take him home.

And the ironic part? During the adoption paperwork, I discovered his name was already Apollo.

Cue stars aligning.

The truth is that by nature he is everything I didn’t even know I wanted in a dog. Though I never formally trained him — due to lack of time and resources — he’s living proof that if loved right, a being will do whatever you ask of it, even defying its own instincts out of sheer devotion. Originally, I wanted him to be bigger, but in hindsight, if he were over 75 pounds, I wouldn’t have the strength to hold him back when his protective instincts kicked in.

Apollo isn’t just a dog — he’s one of my soul mates. People often confuse the terms soul mate and twin flame. Twin flames are mirrors of your soul — believed to be one soul split into two bodies, designed to stimulate growth through challenge, conflict, and transformation. They trigger deep healing and self-realization, often through discomfort.

Soul mates, on the other hand, are beings whose energy resonates harmoniously with yours. They can appear as friends, lovers, mentors, or even family. These connections nurture growth through balance and mutual support — allowing you to feel seen, safe, and deeply understood.

With Apollo, it was as if my soul instantly recognized his. There was no hesitation, no question — just an undeniable sense of knowing. He didn’t arrive to challenge me into growth through pain or upheaval; he came to bring peace, laughter, and unconditional love. Where twin flames burn, soul mates heal — and Apollo has been my gentlest and most transformative healer. He teaches me presence, loyalty, and the quiet power of simply being loved for existing.

They say pets are the souls of the children you were meant to have — the ones who just couldn’t wait any longer to be with you. I believe that with every fiber of my being. Apollo embodies that truth. He is both my guardian and my student, my mirror and my muse. I couldn’t love him more if I had birthed him myself, nor could I ever be loved more unconditionally. His presence has filled the quiet spaces of my life with meaning, reminding me that sometimes, the most profound love stories are the ones that don’t need words.

When I look at Apollo, I’m reminded that love doesn’t always arrive in the form we expect. It isn’t always romantic or complicated or loud. Sometimes, it’s quiet companionship — a heartbeat at your feet, a knowing gaze, a presence that grounds you when everything else feels uncertain. Apollo has taught me that love isn’t measured by grand gestures, but by constancy — the shared silence, the steady breath, the unwavering trust. In him, I found not just a best friend, but proof that true soul mates come in many forms — some with fur, four paws, and eyes that see straight through to your soul.